


Afterlife

by PepoClap



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 09:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16194665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepoClap/pseuds/PepoClap
Summary: Booker and Elizabeth have arrived in the City Of Love. As their civilian lives start, they can't help attract trouble. Booker is left broken. With no violence to occupy his mind, Anna slips into his head. (AU, Booker and Elizabeth are sorta related, I chose to ignore BAS)Wow. HannahLydia is carrying this entire fandom. Props to you! Decided to post my vastly inferior work which will get a upgrading soon, after my Fallout story "Crash Course."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really ship Bookerbeth, and there honestly isn't enough of them out there. For the past two months or so, I decided to take it into my own hands. It's not great, but it'll get better with time when I can add more meat to these chapters. Consider this a rough draft that'll change before your eyes.
> 
> Oh, and I got more stuff too. Look out for that aswell.

Booker's eyes widened when he felt something against him, something foreign. Yet, familiar.

Oh.

His stomach dropped, and he turned on his side, facing her.

Blue orbs stared at him. Her eyes were soft and even a little naive to people she first met. He lightly chuckled at that. His eyes were Emerald Green, they were what Elizabeth loved waking up to a looking at. She could look into those pupils and see his most intimate feelings. Nobody else could read him like her, they'd been together through it all. She could see the broken man before her. She reached out and touched the side of his face. She smiled at him. He looked down at her again. In a glance he could read her like a book. She wasn't completely naive, she'd survived Columbia with him. She'd been in… There.

The Comstock House left him scarred, how could Comstock treat Elizabeth like that? He wasn't experimented on yet he shared the same demons with Elizabeth. They were connected, the Lutece Twins had told them before they leaped through the tear and into the City of Lights.

"You both made it together and did something the other Elizabeths and the other Bookers had yet to achieve," Rosalind spoke in a quiet voice. Booker had to strain to hear the last word. Achieve. Was it love? Surely past versions of himself weren't complete idiots. He felt something with Elizabeth that wasn't replicated by Annabelle before. True love.

"You both… you both had hope." Robert quipped.

"Booker, in several other worlds, you may have achieved love. But in several of those same ones, the Comstock House changed you. The tears were too much for you to bear. Elizabeth's screams tore at your mind and affected you more than a bullet upstairs would've."

"Elizabeth was in there for months-" Elizabeth had cut him off, in a hoarse whisper she breathlessly said, "Six."

Rosalind spoke again, "Six months of continuous torture. Of brainwashing. Yet, she still kept up for it for you. Other times she soon gave up. Comstock had gotten to her. He'd won. You may have only taken several hours to liberate her again but in her world, every second ticked longer than usual. Every minute felt like hours. Every day soon felt like entire months. Booker, you had a connection with her. That's what kept her going"

Elizabeth stood at his side, her blue eyes closed, instinctively she grabbed Booker's right hand and felt the piece of cloth. A reminder, that they were one and that he wouldn't let her go.

A connection. He remembered the time as he trudged quietly through the halls of the Comstock House, he'd crouched behind a pile of rubble, laid down his M1 Carbine and opened a bottle of salts and sat there. For a few minutes his mind turned off and he and Elizabeth were together in a bleak apartment. His cot in the corner. His familiar Mauser C96 lay on his desk and she stood against the wall. Smiling. She'd talked to him, giving him that spark. That hope, to keep pushing onward to free her.

It soon turned into something more wounding. The scene shifted ever so slightly and her happiness was gone. Her initial look, the outfit and hair she had when he first fell through her roof. Was gone. Instead, she was that fragment of her former self. Covered in blood he hoped was someone else's. Those bruises that lines her arms taking up so much real estate. He let out shaky sobs. The first time in months. The last time was the loss of Anna. Yet this overshadowed it by miles. She attempted a smile, a smirk, a laugh something to brighten his mood. All that came out were the details of today's torture. He felt something slither down his throat. He looked down and he was back behind the rubble. The liquid slowly sinking deeper down his throat, filling him with salts and with fury. "Time to end this fucker."

When they got to him on the Airship, "Hand Of The Prophet" he bashed his face in until he resembled nothing more than a bottle of ketchup. Blue and purple bruises littered his neck. He closed his eyes again and he could remember exactly where they were on the dead body. His left hand left imprints on the left side of his neck.

His ring finger had dug itself into his skin, piercing it until he could touch his spine. He left hand felt warm, he remembered pulling out veins in his neck. He wanted to make him pay. His right hand had pulled on his collarbone. He'd pulled down in a single move and his fingers sunk into the valley between his neck and collarbone and he tugged downwards hard. He heard the distinct snap and he lifted his left foot and held the man still. Another swift move and it was out of his body and onto the floor.

Elizabeth watched, no regret. The difference between he and Booker were all outclassed by one thing. Booker was her Songbird, her liberator, yet kept her as safe as if she was still at the tower. Sometimes a little overbearing, but he made sure she hadn't have to worry about anything. When he held her, she melted into him and she could care less about the world. Booker was hers. He never went to the lengths to imprison her in a tower and have a guardian be her only socialization, her only connection to the outside world. He never killed her only other human friends, just as Comstock had, with the Lutece Twins.

Booker came and swept her off her feet. And here they were, in Paris.

"Booker, look at me." Elizabeth had whispered. His thoughts snapped out of the past and onto the present. He shifted on the bed and looked straight into those blue voids.

"Are you alright? I hope you weren't think about getting out of bed, today I can't be bothered.I… I just want some alone time with you. It's great seeing the City of Love, but… I just want it to be us today."

Booker smiled, "This is the life." he thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Booker's calloused hands rested on the bronze knobs. The closet held some of his most familiar items. Guns. He remembered in shock about the technology they had admassed up there. The Skyhook, the weapon he first encountered. He remembered the Columbian P.D. member was dismembered in a second. He'd thrown the ball in his hand, distracting him. Number 77.

He swung it open. The beautiful oak wood, polished with bronze ornaments and plating made up the interior doors. He looked down. His eyes took a once over at the Mauser C96. He reached down, his fingers brushing the box that the Lutece twins had handed him when they first met. Booker Dewitt. 7th Cavalry, Wounded Knee. Regret hit him in the face. Socking him. A new city, and the first thing he had thought of? "Time to get in and out."

He'd taken so many lives. The Mauser was just the start. Sure it gave him memories of saving Elizabeth. But at what cost? "Doesn't matter the price, you'll do it." He chastised himself. It was true. He indeed pushed on, firing away. He had a job, but he didn't know the outcome, but now that he did, he reaped the rewards everyday.

In the back was his rifle rack. The M1 Carbine. His gun, the weapon that he adored so much. Was in the shelf in the back, dormant. Several metal cases filled to the brim with ammo. His eyes glazed over the rest of the rack. The ZK-383 was next the Carbine. He reached forward, bringing his right hand to brush the rifle. He pulled it out. He looked down the sights and he was hit with another flashback.

His eyes transported him back to Columbia. His eyes looking down the sights. He was looking at a Patriot, in the Good Time Club. He could feel the air around him tear. A split second later the bullets tore into the bookshelf behind him. He ducked and rolled. His hand brushed against the wooden railing, he lifted his head, then his left arm and let a bolt of Shock Jockey rip through the club, hitting the Patriot in the chest. He got up and stood on the edge. He jumped onto the Patriot's back, spraying his rifle into the gears. He emptied his clip and was thrown back from the explosion of the machine.

He laid on his back for a while. The pitter patter on the carpeted floors was near silent, but loud enough for him to prepare himself for the lecture incoming. Elizabeth hated when he went into combat, outnumbered and outclassed. She knew in the back of her mind he'd be alright, but the pain that he'd have in the end made her want to throw him in the tower.

His eyes cleared and he was back in their apartment in Paris. He was safe. He didn't need to do that anymore. He brought his hand back and looked at the rest of his arsenal that he begged Elizabeth to let him haul.

"Isn't the Carbine and the Paddywacker enough? We don't need to have take the entire Columbian Armory with us." He looked at her and shook his head. Those guns were and extension of him and losing them was like losing another bit of himself. His face stretched upwards ever so slightly remembering the event.

He stepped back, admiring the collection he'd admassed. He closed the doors gently. His left hand lingered on the knob for a second. He turned around and let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

He hated a part of himself for remembering those guns in action so fondly. Everytime he squeezed the trigger, another man's eyes closed forever. If he didn't then they'd reciprocate, but that didn't make him feel better. It hadn't made him feel better ten years earlier when he had the choice of choosing the military or the civilian life. He chose the former and every night he could smell the burning flesh. He could see the smoke, he could see the scalps. He drank himself near death many times.

Whisky, hell, any alcohol helped him face his demons. Instead of facing Lucifer with just his fists, he could drink a bottle of tequila and have a Paddywhacker with him instead. So every night, he'd slip out into the raining city of New York. He'd slip through and alleyway, jump over the chainlink fence and then he'd be able to take the side street without his neighbors knowing he'd left to chug more in a night than they'd have in their lives. Of course until he stumbled through the doors the following morning and saw Bill, his landlord shaking his head.

Those eyes, those fucking eyes. Brown battled his Green. The fought a war of attrition than lasted seconds. Bill usually won, Booker was too drunk to walk, let alone put up a intimidating act. Bill would scold him. "Think of ANNA! What good do you serve her if you are always so god damn drunk you can't get up until Wednesday? Huh?" Bill would send these volleys of words ripping through his heart better than bullets could.

"At this point I know more of Anna than you ever will. Tell me Booker, when's her birthday? Where were you when she turned one? Who was the one who actually bought her a present and made her a cake? I did. Where were you when she was crying so loudly I had to go up and see the problem? She was hungry Booker. The infant was fucking starving. You were passed out on the floor with bottles all around you. I fed her. You go out and drink yourself to death and I wonder where you get all this money from. You've delayed paying me rent twice this month. Booker, if you were struggling, but you took care of her then fine. But you drink yourself to death to get away from reality. I don't know if you had any idea that you have no money, and haven't had some for a long time, but you don't. Where do you get this money to spend on drinks? You don't, you tell the bar keep to put it on your tab." Bill finished.

Booker let him attack him. He didn't deserve mercy. The words made him want to drown in that bottle of Vodka he kept in his room for emergencies.

"Booker, this is it. The Mafia has been on my back for the past week trying to get a hold of you. The walls are closing in on you Booker. I can't harbor you anymore, you don't pay, you don't work. You are causing my family to live in fear in their own home. I'm sorry Book. But I'll give you two weeks, then it's just you and Anna. Godspeed Booker." Bill croaked in a whisper. Those hardened eyes softened, his age sunk in. He stepped away from Booker and closed his eyes. "Annabelle, wouldn't have wanted this. So fix yourself. Drinking isn't gonna help you. Get a goddamn job to start out first."

Booker stayed up the whole night crying. The following week he had sold Anna.

The drinking didn't stop. He couldn't stop.

Those words kept him up.

Bring us the girl, and wipe away the debt.

"Booker?" Elizabeth had let out a small whisper. Booker was sitting on the floor in front of the closet, hugging his knees with his broad arms. In the space between him and the closet was four bottles of red wine. They usually had some for dinner every night, but he drank their entire supply. She put down her groceries and sat next to him. He looked over and she saw red rims around his eyes. Those Emerald eyes were bloodshot. He let out a groan and started to let out a sob. She wrapped her slender arms around his waist and they sat there for the rest of the night.

When they were in bed, Booker finally stopped crying. Elizabeth never took his eyes off him. She saw as he started to shake. He looked over at her and whispered out to her in the dim light of the lamp.

"I…. I sold Anna. Anna was mine to protect and I'm sure that Annabelle will personally kill me when my light goes out, but. But… I tried. I tried to get clean, so many times before, when we got married, when we had Anna, after she passed. I just can't put down the bottle when I nee-" Elizabeth wouldn't let this happen.

"Booker. I need you now. I can't change the past, but we can keep moving forward." She reached out with her left hand to touch him. Booker felt her warmth, he could feel the ring on her finger touch his shoulder and let out a shock into his skin. He looked up at her.

"I hope I mean more to you than Annabelle, It's selfish I know, but sometimes I go through my own demons too. You know what keeps me from going insane? What keeps me from trying to end it because of what happened at the Comstock House? I nearly died everyday for six months, I forgot what the sun looked liked. What real food tasted like. I only knew you. You kept me going. We went through so much that I look at you as my equal. I hope being married shows you that. I hope sacrifing myself so I could keep you safe from Songbird shows that. But all I want is your reassurance. I'll hope you know you have mine." Elizabeth spoke.

Booker let out of moan of sorrow. Why was she beating herself over Annabelle? Sure he loved her, but he was with Elizabeth. She made his life complete. Something that Annabelle could never provide. Anna he couldn't shake off as easily. But her words gauzed up his internal wounds. He stopped himself from sobbing again and looked at her shining eyes, filled with sorrow, filled with empathy.

"Elizabeth, you mean the world to me, if I lost you. I would lose it. That would be it for me. You keep me on this side of the abyss everyday. I hope I do too." Booker let out.

Elizabeth nodded, content. "You do. Now, sleep Booker, no nightmares for you today. I'm fighting off your demons because I'm a fucking tear goddess. Rest."

Booker let out his first laugh in ages. "I love you Elizabeth."

"Booker, I love you too. Now sleep."


	3. Chapter 3

Booker felt skeptical, but money talks. The gentleman had a very loud voice. The briefcase still flashed in his mind, he unlocked it, Elizabeth behind him let out a silent gasp. This… This was enough to make his pain go away. Elizabeth didn't mention last week's outburst. He hoped he hadn't scared her too bad. It still made his stomach churn.

They were sent to protect a middle age man, slightly overweight. Elizabeth whispered in his ear as they tailed their guy. "Looks like he's got a beer belly, we should be able to outrun him if this becomes a trap."

Booker nodded and patted his Hand Cannon tucked in his holster. "We won't need to run, this bad boy will stop anyone before they can say, "Songbird.""

Elizabeth smiled at him. She spoke, "Uh uh, I call dibs." She patted the Mauser in her thigh strap.

"You are so bad. Where'd you learn that?" He joked.

"Must run in the family."

They walked along. They weren't even sure that the VIP they were supposed to keep safe knew they were being followed. He took a turn and started to walk faster. He took a left.

Booker eyes followed along, when he bumped into a young woman trying to cross the road. She turned and smacked his shoulder and huffed off. Elizabeth was already tense and she drove her over the edge. In a second, behind him erupted a fight.

"Did you just touch my Husband?"

"Uh, I think you have eyes, you should've been able to see that yes, he did ram into me and I simply told him off. Serves him right for not paying attention. You should tell off as well, I won't get mad."

Elizabeth let her hands do the talking. A single right hand connect with the older woman's right cheek. A crack sounded and sent her reeling.

Booker had turned around and wanted to say something but he noticed the look in her eyes. He knew it well. He'd been at Wounded Knee and that blaze in her eyes matched with his fellow servicemen. He had it too.

The other woman straightened up and tried to throw a punch. Elizabeth sidestepped and threw a left hook. The other woman crumpled. Elizabeth wiped her hands on her skirt and spoke, "Serves her right for messing with you Booker. Mess with you and I'll personally knock 'em out for you."

Booker smiled. He had taught her well. Then the realization at what happened. He let out a groan. "We lost this guy and we've got a knocked out woman here." He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He took a puff and blew out smoke.

"Might as well call it quits for today, I just wished it was with a less rich client." Booker spoke.

Elizabeth butt in, "Uh, just go ahead, I'll wait for the police. Track the guy, just send me a signal, send a bolt of shock jockey in the air or something, I'll find you,"

Booker nodded and took off in the direction of the lost man.

He turned left around the street corner and saw six men dressed in a suits, holding revolvers. His eyes widened. He mentally scolded himself, "You are Booker Dewitt, you single handedly saved Elizabeth from Songbird. Who else can say that?"

Footsteps clacked against the surface of the grimey concrete. Booker caught his breath and turned the corner. Hand on his holster. He glanced upwards catching the attention of the mobsters.

Bucking Bronco ran through his veins, he raised his left hand and a shockwave of wind pulled them into the sky.

Booker immediately fired four shots. Each connected with a head. Blood poured on him like rain, the remaining two men fell down and Booker shot one of the remaining brutes in the shoulder. Booker let out a blast of water, pulling the other into his grip.

He slammed his barrel under the chin of the unfortunate Sosa. A quick squeeze and a fountain of blood erupted from his neck cavity. Booker kept his grip tight on the corpse, using it as a meatshield. The other mobster's eyes screamed at his own with a single emotion. Fear,

Booker was past the point of mercy. His clothed hand gripped the polished wood of the Paddywhacker. His index finger slipped into the trigger guard and he pulled.

A single crack rang loud and clear. The dapper man in front of Booker dropped to the floor. Blood continued running down his left arm, Booker dropped the body he was clutching to his chest and leaned against the wall.

He reached into the mobster's pocket he thought belonged to the leader's. Highlighted by the Dries Van Noten suit he'd donned. A card. A address. Just down this alley way.

Elizabeth had pulled out the C96 after the shots had rang out. A single jab of a invisible knife struck her heart.

"Booker? I'm coming!" Elizabeth yelled. She started to take off in his general direction, the pitter and patter of her movement ringing loudly in her ears. She peeked around the corner and saw Booker looking over the pile of bodies he recently dispatched. He had his left hand in his pocket. He pulled out a handful of .36 caliber bullets. He slowly slid them in his revolver. He started to walk away, heading towards a alleyway.

Elizabeth had her Broadsider clutched tightly in her right hand, she tugged it upwards to her eyeline. As she turned the corner, she only peeked very slightly out. She saw Booker hop over a fence and open a door. She increased her pace, confused as where he was headed.

As she reached the door, she cracked it open and peered inside. Booker was standing in the candle light examining a man chained to the floor. She sighed, this was a simple in and out mission. If their client had asked for them to guard a politician and he went and caused a ruckus, they'd be deep in paperwork. This seemed to be a guy who just wanted to go to the bar and got caught up by the Mob.

Just. Just like Booker. She opened the door slowly when the lights turned on and Booker was surrounded by street thugs. Dressed... Were they wearing suits? Her eyes widened. The Parisian Mafia, they'd got him. Her heart thumped even harder, before anyone could make a move, she fired twice. Immediately closing her eyes shut. A second later she heard a thump against the scratched hardwood floors. A dozen eyes looked at her standing in the doorway. Booker was already ahead of them. He let out several shots. The ensuing brawl wasn't pretty. Elizabeth rushed in. She saw a thug grabbing Booker's Hand Cannon and she swung her leg, tripping him to the floor and she she executed him, then and there. Two more men moved toward over her, one went to tackle her legs and the other lunged to grab her gun.

She kicked the first in the groin, she could hear his groan vibrate her shin. The other man was luckier. He had snatched the gun from her grip. She launched herself at him. He let out a shot. It pierced her arm, she could feel it tear through muscle and flesh. The searing hot pain seemed to slowly ramp to a inferno as she felt the bullet settle near the back of her arm. It didn't exit, just mocked her by staying in deep inside her. Brought back to the present, she slammed into his hip and knocked both of them to the floor.

Booker was already caught up in his own troubles. His revolver was somewhere on the floor, under several bodies. His fingers snapped and flames erupted from his fingers, he threw a ball of molten magma towards one of them men holding a Broadsider. The gun sailed through the air and Booker lunged to grab it. Three more men stood in his way. He clutched the gun and fired three times towards one of the men. He saw his lights go out. Another man fired at Booker twice. Booker fired in response, but the bullets still hit him. The air in his lungs clawed their way out of his throat. He doubled over in pain and the final thug had his opportunity.

He swiftly kicked Booker in the groin and dove for the gun that flew from Booker's grasp. Booker fell to the floor. He had a tiny bit of salts left. He had an idea, he didn't have enough for Devil's Kiss, but he had enoug-

The shot rang clear, but Booker never fell. The bullet was in the shield in his grasp. He threw the bullet back and the mobster fell to the floor. Clutching his neck. Booker turned and ran towards the remaining two men attacking Elizabeth.

Elizabeth had her knife deep into the tackled thug's neck, blood poured into her grasp. Swiftly she got up only to be met with a uppercut so vicious she stumbled backwards, holding her jaw and then fell to the floor in immense pain. Booker jumped onto him.

She saw as he brought his fists down onto the poor man's skull. He ficisiouly slammed his knuckles into his eyes. He grabbed his neck and threw him against the wall, dead. Booker stumbled backwards, fell onto the floor and grabbed a Medkit from the floor.

Elizabeth tore her eyes off him. The pain forcing her to stifle a scream. She looked at her wound. She let out a strangled sob. She tried to stand up but she fell onto her back, the pain in her arm shooting into her temples.

Booker stood up, medkit in hand. He tore it open, he nabbed the tweezers.

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Booker, please…. Just do it fast."

Booker nodded and tossed her a flask, "Drink, should stifle the pain, a little bit."

Elizabeth uncapped it, she felt the tweezers enter her arm cavity. The pain went up several notches. She let out a scream now, not doing anything to quiet it. With her uninjured arm, she brought the metal flask to her lips and chugged. The liquid seared her throat, much like the bullet did. But when it settled, a warmth encapsulated her. As if Booker wrapped her arms around her.

She opened her eyes, Booker had started pouring some alcohol into her wound. She brought the flask up and slammed it on the side of his face. Immediately she regretted it. She didn't mean to, it was just a pain induced impulse she didn't have the power to stop.

"What was that for? I'm trying to keep you with me!" Booker spoke, his words coated in slight annoyance.

Elizabeth just groaned, "Keep going, It just.. It burns."

Booker finished disinfecting her wound. He pulled out some gauze and wrapped it around her wound. He got up, clutched his side, where he'd been shot and let out a slight whimper. He sat back down, breathing heavily and started to close his eyes.

"Book-" His eyes closed. After what seemed like hours, his eyes opened again, "I'm gonna he-" He dozed off. When he was out of it, he had a slight idea that he was being moved. His eyes opened once more, nothing came into his vision but a blinding white light. Then, a woman came into his view.

Elizabeth spoke, slightly enraged, slightly scared. "Booker? I thought you were gone Booker! Don't do that to me ever again." Elizabeth finished, having to croak out her last words.

Booker let out a grim smile, "It's gonna take a lot more than two shots to take me out, remember how I had to go toe to toe with a fucking Handyman?"

Elizabeth let out a smile, "I remember you getting the shit kicked out of you, that's for sure. But you did get him, Carbine shot to the heart. My hero."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me, just dropping another measly 1.5K chapter here.

The bright lights, god, how Booker was starting to hate them. Every time he'd open his eyes those lights would shine over him, reminding him of Elizabeth getting poked and prodded. Those screams. Booker shook his head, trying to purge them from his memory. But he couldn't, poor o' innocent Elizabeth had been tortured for six months. He could've been faster, no, he should've been faster. How could've cut down the time, he could've done something. Booker's mind drifted else where, a man. The man. The one who offered him this job, tasked with providing over watch and watching one guy. He failed, he'd gotten shot, but worse. Elizabeth had gotten injured. His fault. He should've known he'd been set up.

Yet. His mind told him that he just didn't have all the pieces. The gentleman was dapper, held himself high and possessed a intelligence he'd only came across a handful of times. Elizabeth, and... and the Lutece twins. Could they have? When they went through the tear, Elizabeth had told them that they no longer existed. But, maybe the red headed twins they had met where gone. Instead replaced by a different entity that was still them? Booker wanted answers, want reassurance. But here he was, isolated in this room. Slowly going insane. He had to do something.

Booker was slated to be released tomorrow, with Elizabeth a day after that. He hadn't seen her since he passed out. His mind drifted back towards her. She'd hit him with the metal flask. Pain was something she felt vividly, despite going through continuous torture. Booker on the other hand could push it from his mind, head into a sort of numbness that allowed him to continue on. Allowed him to keep Elizabeth safe, despite the fact that he had multiple gunshot wounds and shrapnel all buried inside his skin.

The following morning he'd gotten back to the apartment, set on getting a surprise for Elizabeth. As soon as he got released he went to her room and delivered some flowers and actual food. He wanted to stay the rest of the day with her, but something about her scared him. The doctor had told him that she had gotten sick. They thought it was a stomach bug, as she had thrown up this morning. That thought tore his mind apart. She couldn't be. right? He shook his head, clearing it. He had an idea. Elizabeth had mentioned to him several nights ago that'd she'd like to have a pet. First words that went into his mind when he heard of pet? Songbird. Her guardian up until Booker came and whisked her away. He'd give her a dog. Man's best friend, loyal and protective.

—-

As the water hit his back, washing him of the sweat and grime of the previous week's engagement, he let out a sigh. It'd been too long since he felt this good. He'd head to the pet store in down town Paris and find the perfect dog. Everytime the word Paris ran through his head, he couldn't help but feel grateful. He'd succeed where past Bookers failed. He'd gotten to Paris, Elizabeth's one goal. Of course he fell in love with her, but that idea never ran through his head. Until they shed blood together, for each other, to keep each other safe.

Only time he felt the need to keep another human completely out of harm's way? Anna. Pain flashed through his entire body, invisible knives slicing his bare skin. He let out a choked sob. Anna was not something he'd ever forget, atleast for a while. He wanted some closure, something to put Anna to rest. Give her that final send off, so that Booker could stop wanting to shoot himself whenever her name was mentioned.

Booker's shaking hand grabbed the handle to the shower and turned it off. He let out a groan. He stepped out, toweled himself off and let out a gasp. Cold air hit his body. It felt so good to feel. Before he'd met Elizabeth, he slipped into depression. He turned to the bottle. After Anna was gone, there wasn't any need for him to try to better himself. There wasn't anyone there to say, "Hey, you're doing a great job and I love you." There wasn't anybody who said that to Booker since Annabelle. Even she didn't say it often, or show much affection. She'd been young too, with life goals she set. Milestones she wanted to reach. Booker shattered all of those, crushing her dreams. Instead, she was a mother to a daughter she never got to see and married to a man who struggled with demons she couldn't comprehend.

Booker didn't even know he was in the kitchen. His shaking hand squeezing a wooden handle. A knife's handle. The sharp end laying on the top of his wrist. Laying there, dormant. Ready for his next move. Ready for orders. His right hand seemed to take the lead, slowly pushing downwards. Booker let out a shaky breath. Maybe he deserved this, feel some pain for your losses, you old fuck. His mind shouted at him.

No.

Yes.

Booker pulled away, knocking the knife to the floor. He let out a sob. "Elizabeth?" He called out, knowing he'd get no response, yet a tiny bit wishing she would turn the corner with the answer to all his problems. "I miss you... you always knew how to fix me." He didn't try to hold the tears back. He slumped to the floor, his back against the snow colored cabinets. He felt the bronze ornaments pushing into his back. He didn't care, let himself be hurt. He deserved it.

That's where he lay: Driplets of blood coming from the cut on his left wrist, back bruising from the cabniets, tears flowing like a river from his eyes.

"I miss you."

I miss you.

Those words rammed into her head. Elizabeth groaned. She got a response. She'd gotten hit with thoughts not belonging to her own. "Booker?" She called into the pitch black room. Nobody called back. She sighed, she shifted on her bed. She pulled off the creme colored sheets and sat upright on her bed. She closed her eyes, she couldn't sleep. Not after she'd called out in her mind that she missed Booker, and had gotten a response. She tried, Booker? I... I hate it here. Do you remember the promise you made me on the first day we arrived?

She sighed contently, remembering the afternoon they'd spent together. The aroma of coffee beans slowly churned through the air. They sat outside the cafe, enjoying the sun on their backs. The view of the Eiffel Tower, the landmark of Paris, France. The symbol of love. Booker sat, drinking his black coffee, not taking his eyes of her. He'd finished a sip and let out, "Hmm, the people here don't smell that bad." She'd let out a giggle and slapped his arm.

I promise, to stay by your side. To keep you safe. Forever.

Those words rang through her head. Was this the connection that the Lutece Twins had mentioned? God how she missed them. Despite the fact they'd come and go, not moving a muscle during her captivity. She knew she still loved them. She wished they were here to explain away the questions she had running through her head.

Do you remember what you said to me?

Another hit of words jutted into her mind. She smiled. She'd looked at Booker after he'd let out his vow. She was shocked. How could anyone love her? How could Booker know about her imperfections, yet love her even more for them. He deserved better, she was sure. All those thoughts coursed through her mind again, just like they had on that fateful day. A string of words had took her out of her head. I love you. Words she tried to say as often as she could to the man that deserved to hear them the most.

She let out another sigh of contentment. She thought again, sending her response. Till death do us part.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't know if you noticed yet, but this hasn't been entirely proofread. I'm shrugging right now, so just imagine that.

Booker's foot tapped against the hardwood floor impatiently. He desperately wanted to see Elizabeth, but he was also conflicted Elizabeth… thoughts drifting back to her. Was she? He shook his head. He got up from his seat on the stool. Pacing, a knock rang out. A soft voice called out, taking Booker out of his thoughts.

"Booker? I'm here, god... God how I missed you." She ran over to him, wrapping her arms around him. He picked her up, embracing her warmly. He spoke apologetically. "I'm sorry for dragging you into battle with me, you should've just let me handle it." A brief hit of pain hit his heart. He did like having her around. He felt more alert, more protective and less likely to make stupid mistakes with someone else on the line with him.

Elizabeth shook her head, "Not getting away from me Booker, you had your choice in Columbia, now you are mine."

Booker pupils widened just a bit, letting Elizabeth know she'd gotten a reaction out of him. Booker's face, didn't paint the same picture, hardened and blank. He gave her that brief look before bursting in a smile. "God, you are perfect, you know that?

Elizabeth was cut off by a sudden ring before she could answer. Booker frowned, a client? Who'd be calling him at this hour? It was almost eight, people should be enjoying dinner. Spending time with their families, but decided to call the Private Investigator now?

He sighed, walking over to the telephone on a small table near his chair. He cleared his throat before answering. "Hello? Booker Dewitt from Dewitt Investigations, how can I help you?"

A voice he thought he'd never hear again. Robert. His eyes stretched into huge saucers. He quietly whispered, as if not to scare him away. "Are you real? Robert I thought you were gone."

Robert, the more human of the twins responded, "Yes, quite real. While we may not be exactly how you remembered, it's us. In the flesh."

Elizabeth had perked up now, confusion wiped away. Instead, excitement shone clear on her face. "Booker let me talk to him! There many things we've got to discuss." He handed her the phone, and Elizabeth had turned and shooed him out of the room.

"Robert, it's me Liz. Listen, can you get Rosalind? I have some questions. Can we come over and discuss?" Elizabeth spoke, the excitement in her voice speed up her words.

Robert on the other end, sounded slightly deflated at the mention of Rosalind. "I'll go get Rosalind then, I hope you do join us. Rosalind can be overbearing to put it lightly. Having some company would lift my spirits."

Booker's right hand balled up into a fist, as he was about to knock, Elizabeth questioned the baby blue cloth on his hand. "You still wear that? Isn't that uncomfortable?"

Booker looked over, "Just like the brooch, this means a lot to me. It's one of the only things that reminds me of Columbia. Of you. You know, other than the guns."

Elizabeth looked pleased, and the door swung open, revealing Robert.

"You are here! Welcome, welcome. Please, come on in. I'll get us some tea." Elizabeth and Booker both stepped into the large apartment. They walked into the sitting room where Rosalind sat.

Rosalind broke into a smile and hugged Elizabeth. As she pulled away she looked at Booker, who was standing off to the side, out of place. "Good to see you too, you've kept good care of her?"

Elizabeth looked at him, and purred out, "Very good care." Booker's eyes widened and a blush crept up his neck. Elizabeth smacked him on the arm, "Lighten up."

Booker's eyes looked back at Rosalind. Her once red hair was replaced with a blonde and was long, still kept in the same hairstyle. She was still as pale as Elizabeth but she was… Taller. In fact, quite a bit taller than Elizabeth, He was 6'2, and she reached about 5'9. Elizabeth stood at a small 5'6.

Robert called out for Booker, he turned and left. Leaving behind Elizabeth and Rosalind.

Elizabeth spoke, a slight shake in her voice. "Rosalind. I… The doctors told me, I'm carrying a child. Booker and I are going to have a child."

Rosalind's eyes widened, mouth agape. "You… I assure you nothing with go wrong. You deserve it."

Elizabeth nodded, "I'm just… Me and Booker aren't related. Not in this universe, I'm Elizabeth. His soon to be wife, and lover. I'm not Anna. So… The baby will be fine. Right?"

Rosalind pondered this. She was right, Anna had died as a entity as soon as she was transported through the tear. Because of the fact her pinky got caught, that meant Anna was dead. Her body, err. Part, lay covered in blood. If she'd gone completely through, she'd be Elizabeth, but as Anna. Related to Booker and sharing the same blood. Here, she shared Comstock's blood.

Elizabeth was a different person. She wasn't Anna. That wasn't her name, that wasn't the blood coursing in her veins. She was Elizabeth. Rosalind nodded. "Yes, Anna is dead. You are Elizabeth. Your baby should be fine. There shouldn't be any implications. It's not inbreeding, you both aren't related. But, she still could have problems. It's not a guarantee, she'll be fine. But, you shouldn't worry."

Booker looked at Robert. He was 6 feet and had a head of jet black hair and still had the aura of intelligence. Robert spoke, "The… The guy I sent you to protect, he died correct? He hadn't shown up to our experiment dates for a week and a half. No word, and I can't reach him."

Booker responded, slightly taken aback at the urgentness in his words. "Yes, the Mafia had shot him dead. By the time I had arrived he was long gone. I'm sorry."

Robert's eyes lost their happiness. His shoulders slumped. "God. We were so close." He let out a shaky breath.

Booker grabbed him before he fell to the floor. "Robert! What the hell! What's going on with you?"

Robert looked up at him from his crouched position on the wall. "My research, all thrown out the window. We were trying to make a tear machine. Now we have no consenting individuals to test on and everyday, our previous intelligence fades more."

Booker pulled Robert up, "I mean. I guess you can use me. You helped me get Elizabeth, so I'm gonna return the favor."

Robert shook his head, "Elizabeth wouldn't let you do that. Look at her Booker, she loves you, I... I cannot do that to you. Who knows what can go wrong?"

The women stepped into the kitchen. Rosalind's hard eyes had daggers at the ready to fire at anyone who injured her… Well. Rosalind's relationship with Robert was complicated. Her eyes softened when she looked at him.

Elizabeth was already examining Robert, who was shaking. Booker pulled Robert slightly towards him and gave him a nod. Robert nodded back, in understanding. Rosalind tilted her head, all she heard were his cries. What were they talking about?

Robert spoke, slightly turning the tension downwards. "I'm good. Booker and I… were discussing topics."

Elizabeth gave him a look, "Mhm, because the shouts and immediate cries was discussing. Booker, you didn't do anything to him correct?"

Booker didn't respond, he was caught in his own thoughts. "Booker?" Elizabeth had called out again.

Rosalind had hurried to Robert's side, she stared into his eyes. Looking, desperately for a sign. "Robert, you need to trust me here. You need to let me know what's going on."

Robert shook his head. "I'm think we should just let this go, please? Booker we are fine, right?"

Booker was still dazed. "Yeah. Yeah. We are... Fine." Elizabeth pulled his neck down, making him face her. "You can tell me anything. Booker, you and I. We are all each other have."

Booker's shoulders slumped. "Fine, you win. I'm going to volunteer, and let Robert and Rosalind conduct tests on me. For their Tear Machine project. I have to return the favor. They paid us to take care of a single guy and I failed. You got injured, and their only test subject died. They have no-one else. I think I owe it to them."

Elizabeth got a faraway look, she stumbled back. He back caught the counter and she steadied herself. She let out a whisper, "Booker. B-Booker. Uh, wha-. Our child!" Her head was spinning.

Rosalind interrupted her. "There will be no more testing. Usually you are the one with the more human perspective, Robert. Why do you want to continue research? Do you want to leave me?"

Robert's insides churned. He slumped to the ground. He was on all fours. He looked up at the rest of them. "I feel incompetent. Don't you see that? Everyday I see the magnificence of you. The perfect of Rosalind and I admit I get jealous. Columbia? God. What a terrific invention. Lutece Lifts? Rosalind that was you. I merely admired from the sidelines. I'm supposed to be your equal, so why do I feel inferior?"

The room fell quiet. Elizabeth was reeling from the blow that Booker hit her with. Rosalind stood in shock at the venom Robert spat. Booker was gripping his temples, Anna was fighting for dominance of his thoughts. The other half was struggling, fighting. Elizabeth and their baby.

Booker spoke, taking everyone out of their thoughts. "Alright. Robert get up. Let me tell you something. Listen to me." Booker spat out.

"You, are equals. Who other male possesses the same amount of intellect as you Robert? Don't lie to me about the Lutece Lifts, that was you both. It's even named, "Lutece" Lifts. Your last name. Columbia, that isn't something either of you should be boasting you. Columbia, that's where I met the love of my life. But you took her. You assisted Comstock. Maybe not as much as he hoped, but you had a hand in Columbia. We all have guilt to bear. We aren't perfect. Robert, not even Rosalind."

Elizabeth, looked up at Booker. She slammed into him, enveloping him in a hug. Booker stumbled, caught himself on the wall, and look at the perfect woman holding herself close to him.

He leaned downwards and whispered into her ear, "I'm sorry, I won't volunteer. I love you, and I don't want to put you through that. Not you, or our child."

She buried her face in his chest, "I'll let you… Just stay safe." She pulled back, gripping the side of his face. "Just…. You have to come home. The tears, they are random and unruly. It took me my whole life to use them, I don't know what to expect. You just need to come back to us."

Rosalind took her eyes off of the loving couple. She fought inside her head. What was she putting Robert through? Robert pulled himself to his feet. He turned to her, those broken eyes stared into her own.

He spoke before her, "Rosalind. I love you. So when you go everyday, not even thinking about how your actions may effect me. It hurts. It feels like you dragging me through the mud. Or when you take me for granted. Remember tuesday? When you kept asking me when the food was going to be done even though I had cooked for the past two weeks. The weeks you were supposed to cook. Instead, you got to research, read, relax. You had me shackled to the kitchen or as your sidekick. You treat me as a slave, Rosalind. I care for you too much to tell you anything. But, I can't keep going on like this."

Rosalind couldn't say anything but let the man she would constantly take advantage of tear her apart with words. Each vowel tearing into her skin like a blade. Her blood ran cold, how could she put him through that? He was a scientist at heart, and she took him out of that role.

"Robert I-" Robert silenced her with a kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is actually the end for the original story I posted over at Fanfiction.net. But seeing the absolute carrying of HannahLydia, I'm not only going to expand on already existing chapters, I'm going to add more.
> 
> So yeah.
> 
> EDIT - Annnnnd. I lied. Got another chapter up and running.

"Stay safe, alright? I don't know what you're gonna see there, but you've already saved me. Don't try to be a hero. You've got me, and Anna, to stay alive for." Those words kept ringing in Booker's head.

His shook his head. Focus, if you're gonna stay alive, you've gotta be ready. Another part of his mind seemed to laugh at that. Why was his first instinct danger? Who knows where he'd be headed.

Rosalind's voice pierced his thoughts. "Ready? We operate the machine, the tear opens and you step through."

Robert butt in, "The tear will transport you into one of your memories. Since this is our first operational machine we will not be able to pick a specific memory, so please be careful. Oh, and if you find yourself, do not interact. A single glance at you could change several universes."

Booker nodded. He hefted his Carbine over his shoulder. He gripped the sling and lifted his pack. "So, what do I do there? Subtly help that Booker?"

"Precisely. Nobody knows more about you, than you." The Lutece Twins finished.

The man gripped the seat, steadying himself. "You don't know what the hell you are talking about, Bill. She's my daughter."

The older man smirked, "Yes, because leaving her, a infant in her room to fend for herself while you go and harass factory workers is a good idea."

Booker shot back, "It's not like I've gotta choice. Dunno which world you are living in, but in mine, Annabelle is dead. I'm poor, I've got no future. I'm addicted to the bottle, and i'm gonna die to the bottle. What do you want me to do?"

Bill took a minute to ponder this. "Booker, your life is so fucked. You ain't gonna be a millionaire, but you've gotta do something. Something. Anna is gonna want things and you've gotta provide. Book, do something."

Booker yelled, "Don't you get it!? My book is written, I can't get out of my grave because it's too deep. God damn, do I have to spell it out for you? I'm livin' in poverty. My guns? Stolen from the PD. The crib? That's what wood liberated from the construction site two blocks away looks like."

Booker slumped to the floor. He grabbed one of the bottles from the floor. He tipped the bottle to his throat and felt the drip of Vodka hit his throat. "Just… if I die, can you take care of her? When the time comes to tell her about her dad, tell her he was a deadbeat muh'fucker."

The eldest man sighed. Booker was going to likely die, yes. Either the years of drinking ending him, or the Mob finally sniffing him out. God, wasn't there something he could do?

He responded, "Booker, if you die. I'll take care of her. But don't you go an' try to end it, try. You maybe eight feet under, but you can always swim up. For her case, you better not drown. Take it from me, growin' up with no daddy is hard."

Booker just sat against the wall. The empty bottle lay discarded on the dirty floors. His shaking hands reached for a beer bottle laying near his chair.

Swifty, Bill picked it up and shook his head. "Boy, if you are gonna die, die at the hands of another man. Not to the bottle."

Booker, who was in the vents felt revolted. This is what would happen to him if Robert never took Anna? Was this worse? He felt a internal knife plunge into his mind. Of course having a father who's slowly killing himself and his daughter is worse. But, Elizabeth. No. No. Don't wish Anna to the same life as Elizabeth.

But it's better. Isolation or Starvation? You know which one is the lesser of two evils. He shook his head. Stop. You are here to get him out of this shit hole. He glanced at the scene before him again.

Booker curled up on the floor. "Bill? I'm scared. Sometimes I wish I never existed. 'Cause maybe Annabelle would've met a actual fuckin' man. Not me, the Alcoholic who beats the shit outta people for steppin' outta line. Maybe then Anna woulda been born, but with an actual dad. Who buys her anything she wants. God, I wish it was different. I'd go back an' change it all, if I could."

The older man sighed. "Stand up. Help me clean this room up. I'm gonna see if I can do something for you."

Booker was on the roof now. He slid the vent panel back in place. As the light drizzle came down, he lit a cigarette. He managed to get a single puff before it went out. He leaned on the railing. He tossed his now damp lung killer on the sidewalk below.

What if I put him out of his misery? As soon as the thought went into his head he visibly cringed. God Booker, why are you so disgusting? Leave Anna alone in this universe?

He let out a groan as his insides seemed to rip themselves apart. God. He let out a breath. "Pull me out, I don't wanna do this right now." He spoke to the open sky.

The dark blue sky visibly lightened. The world seemed to warp and distort in front of his eyes. He could see the threads of time and space slowly getting pulled apart. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and picked up his pack and slipped his revolver into his holster.

In front of him, Robert looked concerned and Rosalind simply shook her head and looked away.

He squinted and tried to figure out the figure dressed in navy was. He stepped through and his universe slapped him with a barrage of information and a slight tinge of, "why'd you leave me?" He stumbled and caught himself on a wooden chair.

He let out a sigh, "Never really gets better, I'm always so fuckin' disorented."

As he faced the tiles he pulled himself up to face the twins. Before he could manage a word, a body hit him at the speed of light. This time he didn't catch himself, he tumbled to the floor in a shocked heap.

Two diamond blue gems stared into his shattered emerald ones. The sweet voice never ceased to take out the air in his lungs. "Booker! Are you okay? We were watching over you and… the stuff you said. God, each strangled sentence you spoke stabbed my heart."

He gazed at his goddess of a wife, he eyes lingered at her stomach, where a slight bump was just very slightly protruding. "That wasn't me Liz, I've got you and you." He said, his hand rubbing her belly.

He pulled her up and she leaned on him. He looked at the twins, who wore serious expressions. Though, on second glance he could see the edges of a smile on Robert's face and lines in Rosalind's forehead. She was upset. Before he spoke, she slipped several dollars into Robert's palm.

Oh, Betting. He cleared his throat and spoke. "Well? What can we do? Elizabeth kept me going in Columbia. That Booker has nobody to lean on except for a kid, how do I help him out?"

Elizabeth seized Booker's right hand and let out a thought. "What if we just give him money? I-I My powers aren't as strong as they were with the siphon destroyed in Columbia, but I think I can manage giving him money."

Booker's breath caught in a hitch. Robert nodded and Rosalind pondered for a second before letting out a, "I guess we do that, just hide money in his room when he's out drinking? Sure."

Booker caught himself on a desk and he stopped himself before he fell to the ground again.

Elizabeth continued, not paying any mind to Booker. "Well, I can probably get small amounts. I can't pull out a vault, but how much is Booker in debt?" She turned to face her sweating lover.

Booker sighed, "Mob has about two hundred n' fifty thousand that needs to be repaid. Various bars? Fitty kay. Uh, the casinos? At least seventy. My rent? Ten, maybe twelve. Other guy-"

Elizabeth let out a gasp. Both of the twins' eyebrows rose to the ceiling. He closed his eyes. Someone spoke, "Dewitt. We didn't have an exact number. Comstock, he. Uh. He controlled our payroll, I-I god. How'-"

This time Elizabeth spoke. Her voice was quieter. "Booker? That's… how are you not dead? Booker I understand that you needed to retrieve me for debt, but I didn't imagine it to be so high."

Booker opened his eyes and stormed down the hallway. He opened the door and the air wisped around his body. A slight dampness hung around the air. He started off for his apartment.

Why can't they just let sleeping dogs lie? I shoulda spoke up with something else. God. He remembered Annabelle. His steps stopped as he caught his breath.

He switched his mind off and let his body take the reins.

He vaguely remembered himself stumbling into the house and immediately heading to the kitchen. His mind screamed, don't you dare try to use alcohol to try and drown your pain. He staggered and grabbed his temples.

"Stop. Stop. Please, just go away, let me enjoy my life." He spoke to himself. He started sobbing.

He let out a drowned voice, "Annabelle, God. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, i'm s-ssorry. Please, just let me live my life. I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry." His voice cracked and let out more mutters.

Elizabeth touched his right hand and tried to grip it. Booker pulled away and fell to the floor. "Anna! Leave. Me. Alone. I'm sorry, don't you get it? I regret it! All of it! I should've just let you walk away while you still could."

Rivers flowed down his cheeks and Elizabeth could do nothing but let her Husband drown in his own sorrows. No, what the hell are you thinking Liz? Go and help him.

Booker spoke once more. He screamed, "Kill me already! God. I'm sorry. They came into the house and I needed to protect Anna and... " His voice broke. Yet he continued. He sat on the floor holding onto one of the legs of a stool by their kitchen counter.

"I should've protected you both! I'm sorry they killed you. I couldn't do anything. I wanted them to shoot me dead, begged them to. But that was good enough payment for them. Until I got them money, or until Anna grew up to be their own personal slave."

Elizabeth gasped. She was going to be used, like a toy for the mobsters? Her mother was slaughtered as a result of the debt, Booker was in?

She threw herself at his body. She grasped for his face, pulling him into a sensual kiss. "Booker! Stay with me! Your wife is here, me. Please… please Booker. Don't revert back. Stay with me."

His eyes flew open and he returned her display of affection. His screams of pain subsides to whimpers and stifled sobs. The oceans flowing from his eyes died down to a steady stream.

"Elizabeth? Annabelle, she didn't die in childbirth. I kept using that lie, to keep myself alive. Everyday I brainwashed myself to believe it, just so I wouldn't feel that pain. Worked for a while I guess. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you two."

Elizabeth's head slumped against his chest. Elizabeth's own cries mixed into his and they both spent the night there. Against the kitchen counter, both of their own cries mixing themselves into a song of misery.

Three words kept them both from a complete mental breakdown. I love you. Three words that meant the world. This time, Booker wasn't gonna let anyone hurt his wife, or his kid.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no line breaks or italics. I didn't know that, but I'll get on it soon enough.

Booker shuddered. God. Why did everything have to always go wrong? Memories kept coming back. Annabelle, something he buried away, hidden between the depth of his heart. Brought back to the forefront of his thoughts.

Get outta my head! Just leave me alone. I'm sorry dammit, but I can't do anything.

Elizabeth was still clung to him. They both had laid against the kitchen table, which was now pressed up against the wall. Booker hauled himself to his feet and carried his still sleeping wife, into an actual bed.

As he lifted her up, she woke. She let out a small groan and shifted, so that she could see his eyes.

Booker caught her glance, and they both held it. His murky green eyes flooded into her river blue ones. He let out a whisper, "I don't… I don't want to give him money."

He placed Elizabeth down, who grasped his hand. "What do you want?" Booker glanced at the floor. He turned around and swiftly walked into their bedroom, and walked into the closet.

Elizabeth, confused, stared on. Booker walked out with his ornate box. He lifted it open, and pulled out the picture. "Memories. Liz, I want him to remember you. Maybe, then. Then, I'd have done something worthwhile."

Elizabeth nodded. "You know, saving me. I never got to say thank you. I may have shown you, through my actions. But… I never said it. I hoped, not drowning you would've been enough. But. Booker, thank you. For saving me. For killing Comstock. For coming. I don't care how long it was. I knew it. I knew you would come for me. But now, were married. We've got a little Anna on the way. And maybe… just maybe giving him the memories. Can wipe away the debt."

Rosalind awoke with a start. She padded her way to the Lutece Tear Machine and simply stared at it.

Was continuing on working on this device worth it? What were they hoping to achieve? Would they spend their days wandering time and space as they once did in Columbia?

Robert walked up beside her. He grasped her hand. "We've got to do this. Money isn't the answer. But you know what? I'd do anything to break their circle of pain. I regret serving Comstock. Everyday, I wake up and feel the guilt slowly eat me away."

Robert stopped, and pulled Rosalind to face him. "You know what though? Despite it all. This Liz and Booker. Their love. Their, acceptance of each other. That's something that made it all hurt less."

Rosalind looked passed him and stared at the machine. "Yes… Robert. I'm sorry. For… everything. For bringing you to be here with me, so that we could help this Prophet build his dream. I thought I could keep him in check. But obviously, us Physicists, aren't quite good with people."

Robert let out a slight laugh. His eyes glittered with a slight mark of happiness. "I don't regret working with you. We are both sides of the same coin, you are my other part. That's something I wouldn't trade for anything in the world."

Rosalind was about to embrace him, maybe even give him a rare kiss. But the phone rang, snapping their attention away from each other.

Robert perked up, and walked his way to the device. He lifted it up, to be met with Booker's gruff voice.

"I'm comin' Robert. Earlier than expected. Get ready, 'cause Liz and I have thought of a plan. A damn good one, in fact."

Booker slammed his fist against the oak door. Elizabeth quickly grabbed his hand. "What are doing? People are going to think we are breakin-"

The door was now wide open, revealing a very annoyed Rosalind. "Nice of you to grace our presence, Dewitt."

Booker grimaced and stepped inside the apartment, on the heels of a blushing Elizabeth.

When he stepped forward, looking at the machine, Booker couldn't stop the guilt from slowly eating away.

Maybe, this deed, would help him erase the bad ones? Nice try, Bastard. But a dunk in the river isn't gonna change who you are.

Booker quickly grasped his temples, letting out a slight groan, which to the Lutece's went unheard.

But to the only person it mattered to heard. Elizabeth was at his side in a instant. She grabbed his face and turned him to face her. As he glanced back at her, he could see her eyes filled to the brim with worry.

He sighed. "I'm good. Don't worry. Let's just go."

Elizabeth frowned, and something in Booker caused him to remember. Remember her, waking him up. From when he was drowning. That was her exact face. He shook his head, and stood up.

He looked at Robert, who just finished his initial diagnostics. He pulled the lever, and the tear opened. Elizabeth gave him a hug and pulled his right hand to touch her stomach. "Me and Anna will be waiting for you, when you come back."

Booker smiled, flashing her his pearly teeth. She cursed the fact that they weren't at their own home, because she wanted to escalate the position they were in. But she quietly swooned.

Booker stepped into the tear.

The world warped around him. He gripped his leather holster and stumbled. His eyes fogged up and when he reopened them, he was in a bar.

He was confused. Oh yeah. A random memory each time. Which memory was this one though? Where you meet Annabelle.

His glanced around the bar when his caught himself. The 19 year old, life in his eyes, drinking and talking to… Elizabeth?

No. His green eyes scanned over her distracted blue ones. Not as sharp, more dulled down. He shifted, and switched seats and looked in Booker's eyes. Sharp hits of hurt. But.

That was for killing. Not for marrying his sort-of daughter. Impregnating her, and having two physicists, as friends. Not for watching his wife being mutilated in front of him as he was tied down and his daughter in her room, screeching.

He shook his head and walked out.

He stepped inside his apartment building and was greeted by a Bill who had a lot less wrinkles in his face.

"Christ kid, look at what the booze has done to you. Either I'm losin' my mind, but you look older than when you left!"

Booker grimaced. "Thanks Bill, way to make me feel self conscious."

Bill let out a laugh and Booker walked up the stairs.

Great. How are you going to get in? Through the roof.

He dashed up the stairs, glad everyone was out and opened the door. The damp concrete under his feet made him feel right at home. He walked over to the vent and pulled out his screwdriver. He lifted the vent out of the way and crawled in. He slid the vent into his room open and fell out.

He hit the floor with a thud and got to his feet. He looked around. He hefted the small box onto his desk and positioned it to be facing the door. He gazed down at the outdated picture of Elizabeth.

Without thinking, he grabbed the blue cloth that he always had on him and tore a piece off. He slid it inside the box as well.

He moved back into the cramped vents, and got onto the roof, where he watched the streets for signs of Annabelle and him.

Booker spent the entire night there, on the roof. Huddled in a sleeping bag and under a tent. The cold air wisped around his body. It was early morning when he woke. He was starving, but he needed to check on himself.

Light poured into his tent. He groaned at looked at the tent flap. Rosalind was hovering there. "You just gonna lay there, hungry? Or do you want some of what Elizabeth cooked?"

He shot up straight. "God yes."

He peered through the vents, desperately trying to find some emotion in the shoulders of himself.

Booker glanced at the picture before him. Was that, Annabelle as a child? The woman who lay asleep in his bedroom?

If so, who'd send that to him?

Still, the cloth, faded and with dried blood, interested him. He hoped that wasn't a client's way of asking for help or something.

He flipped the card around, looking for some clarification.

Elizabeth.

Who the hell was Elizabeth?

Booker whispered from the vents. He knew he was getting it. "Daughter… daught-"

Booker whipped around, expecting for someone to be behind him? What did he say? Daughter.

Something in him clicked.

This girl resembled Annabelle, and him. He gasped aloud. This was his child, right here. "Oh my god!" He shouted.

Booker was pleased. He saw Annabelle walk out of the bedroom. Wearing his shirt. Oh god. Shut it out. Shut it out. He surprised himself by letting out a light groan, and he could see Booker grimace and let tension lock his shoulders.

But not for hearing him.

He was had to do something, he quickly shoved the picture and cloth into the small box. Annabelle eyed him, and the container. "What've you go there?" she inquired. Slightly skeptical at what it's contents may be.

Booker searched his mind for an explanation. "Actually, I've got no clue. Take a look for yourself."

She stepped forward and hefted the box open. Her eyes first caught the picture. A teen no older than fourteen. She resembled her. Annabelle gasped.

Booker spoke, "Your bleeding!"

"That's our kid! That's me and you, rolled into her."

Booker had to get out of the vent. He quickly scrambled out, hitting the cramped metal walls, but they didn't notice. They noticed the memories flooding in.

Booker didn't bother to move the tent or anything. He groaned, blood was now pouring freely from his nose. His head didn't fare much better. It slammed him with head pounding shots of vivid light.

Even worse, Elizabeth tried to telepathically communicate with him. Her garbled words hit into his frontal lobe, causing him to groan in pain and fall to his knees.

The universe warped around him and the doorway back to his universe was hanging wide open. Booker, now dripping with blood and soaked in sweat, stumbled into the portal.

He hit the carpeted floors with a thud and his head slowly stopped tried to tear itself apart. He coughed and rolled on his back to face the trio of worried faces staring down at him.

Elizabeth hauled him to his feet and then slammed into his body, threatening to take him back down to the floor.

Her face pulled away from his chest and her blue eyes faced him, scanning for signs of irreversible damage.

"I'm fine, 'Liz. For real, just, actually fuck. I don't know what happened."

Robert spoke up, "But I think we've got an idea of what's going on. You closed half of the circle, by having both previous Bookers and Annabelles understand parts of the future."

Elizabeth gasped behind them. "But doesn't that mean I'll… cease to exist? Because Booker and Annabelle are forced to have a happy ending, that means, oh god. Our Anna! My baby!"

She nearly hit the spot where Booker landed, but he had his strength back and caught her before she could realize she was falling.

Rosalind spoke, "You both, are our prime verisons of yourselves. You've done what others hadn't and couldn't do. This causes you to no longer bind to the circle. But, you've got to tie up loose ends. Or else Booker is going to suffer from constant memories from other worlds."

Robert cleared his throat. "Either he goes insane, or he get's glances of what can happen, what will happen and… well. Who's favorite person can do that-"

The DeWitts spoke in unison. "Comstock."

Booker clutched his temples. "So what then? What do I have to do next?"

Robert sighed. "This, is the unclear part. You've tied up Annabelle's future. She stays alive, with Booker. There kid will most likely be named whatever the back of the photograph will be. Elizabeth."

Rosalind, "I've been piecing together thoughts. You've made Annabelle and Booker stay together, so what about you two? I think the child, Elizabeth, is the key. Once born, that's it. No more fate-changing. Death and pain will no longer hold you in it's grasp. There will no longer be a man, a lighthouse and a city. It will just be you two."

Booker plopped himself on the chair. "Thank god. I'd go through Columbia again if I had to, but that's not something I'm looking to do again." He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the river of blood that stopped flowing.

Elizabeth let out a breath. "It'll be just us. I'll still have my powers, but… there's not gonna be anymore Bookers and Elizabeth. Just us. Just me, Booker, little Anna and you two. The last remnants from Columbia."

October 21, 1913

Seven Months, Four Days and Three Hours past last event.

Booker slammed his fist against the doorway. "Rosalind! You aren't even qualified to do this! Let me in there!"

Robert shouted, "Relax! We've got this under control. Go into the sitting room with the dog."

He glanced back to be met with the hazel eyes of the German Shepherd, "Sally," a name which Booker had no idea why Elizabeth chose, but he didn't argue.

The dog scratched at the door separating his two favorite humans from each other. Booker sighed and he walked towards the room he'd been sent to. "Cmon Sally, let's go wait."

He dropped himself onto the chair. He glanced at the walls of his recently bought home. A house on the outskirts of Paris. A house that he loved. Massive was a understatement. With several liberations of alternate universe's banks, they'd amassed a wealth for the four of them to live in a house that many would dream of.

Seven bedrooms, with two masters. The Lutece's inhabited the one at the first floor, while he and Elizabeth had gotten the one with the better view. His favorite place was the balcony. He could access it whenever he wanted. The master bedroom's perch outlooked over the pool and framed the dusk and dawn perfectly.

Their basement was massive and was good enough to house the physicists laboratory. Elizabeth got the many windows and high ceilings that she so desperately wanted. "I don't want to feel cramped. I've already spent my entire life in a tower, I want something I can run around in."

She'd gotten a study stocked to the brim with books and a massive desk were Booker liked to spend his time hunched over and indulging in one of his new hobbies. Reading. Specifically on woodworking. But, Elizabeth had noticed and sometimes he'd walk over and be greeted by, "A Tale of Two Cities," or, "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn." Both novels he did secretly adore.

But he'd gotten his wish granted to. An armory. Whether he wanted to or not, guns were a part of him.

He wanted to make sure that they were put on display. Weapons he'd collected over in Columbia. His Carabine he'd used throughout his entire war on Columbia was given a restoration it so desperately needed. It now matched the bronze engraved, Paddywhacker Hand Cannon that he almost always paired it up with.

His head snapped up when he heard Rosalind's voice carry into the room. Sally perked up and bounded over to him, as if to say, "Let's go! Let's go meet the newest member!"

Both of them raced into the spare bedroom, where the Lutece's stood proudly in a corner. On the bed was the always stunning, Elizabeth Dewitt.

Despite being covered in sweat and hair sticking up in different directions, he'd never laid eyes on a more perfect human.

He whispered, "Are you real?" He didn't know he was speaking to the baby girl in her arms, or to Elizabeth herself.

"Real enough." She glanced up to him now, her eyes shining bright. "We did it. We broke the circle."

Booker had to bite his lower lip to stop himself from breaking down. "Yeah. We did."

She handed Anna to Booker, who picked up the baby in his large arms. She let out a small cry. Booker's eyes locked onto her face, "What's wrong?"

"Booker. I… This is something I never thought would happen. When I was in the tower, sometimes, I gave up. I'd be there forever. But, I'm with you, the person I love. In the city I always dreamed of being in. With two people who helped us get here. Now joined by this bundle of joy. I… I don't deserve this."

Booker stared at the woman who saved him countless times before. "Yes, you do. Nobody deserves to be handed that hand you were dealt. I wouldn't let you have a life less than perfect."

She stared into his emerald eyes, gazing into the mind of the most important person in her life.

"I love you."


End file.
